


the soul has bandaged moments

by ArgentSleeper



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Breathplay, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rough Sex, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 14:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13483104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentSleeper/pseuds/ArgentSleeper
Summary: The Soul has Bandaged moments –When too appalled to stir –She feels some ghastly Fright come upAnd stop to look at her –-Emily Dickinson





	the soul has bandaged moments

**Author's Note:**

> Please see profile for notes (includes update).

 

Sometimes Merlin needed control.

It would shock all of Camelot to see their king spread out on his luxurious four poster bed, arms above his head and bound by invisible loops of magic. He did not fight such imprisonment.  Instead he moaned deeply, flexing his fingers in vain want to wrap them around a neck, a hip, a cock, anything. He knew he was not allowed to. He was never allowed to touch on these nights.

Instead he let Merlin look his fill. Let Merlin craft a thick length from his magic and thrust it into his opening with a force that might have broken him had it not been for the protective spells keeping him whole. Sometimes Merlin would fuck him for hours like that, would walk away and watch from beside the fireplace, knowing that Arthur could do nothing but lie there and take it, completely at his mercy.

These nights were about Merlin's choice. So often his days were about destiny. Spur of the moment or carefully planned, right or wrong it didn't seem to matter. His entire life was planned out for him before he was even born. But not this. Not these nights when the object of his destiny was fully and completely under his command.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Merlin needed gentle.

Merlin hadn’t been raised to violence.  He could hunt as a necessity.  He could gut a creature and carve the meat from its bones to keep himself and his mother fed in a village where there was no such notion as a marketplace.  He could lance an infected wound or assist in a bloodletting.

But violence was something different.

These nights would see Arthur holding him, sometimes for hours, trying to stop the shivering that rattled his bones.  He buried kisses and soft words into Merlin’s hair until the ghosts of entire enemy armies faded from his eyes.  Merlin clung to him, leeching comfort Arthur was more than willing to offer, if not entirely happy he needed to.

Once Arthur was content that Merlin would not crumble before his eyes if he let go, he would begin slowly working his way down his sorcerer’s body, kissing and sucking and soothing.  He would take Merlin into his mouth while working him open with his fingers, using more oil and more fingers than he normally would. Eventually Arthur would turn them both on their sides and rock into a trembling Merlin, slow and gentle and whispering words of love and life.

 

* * *

 

And sometimes Merlin needed to be punished.

These more than any were the nights that cracked Arthur to the core, but he went through with it because he would do anything not to see that look on Merlin’s face again.  That one that made Arthur lock the windows, douse the fire, and post guards at each of the highest towers.  They were the ones that followed days that had ended in mistakes.  Mistakes that resulted in not foe but friend dead or dying, economies crumbling or crops destroyed.  Most of the time there wasn’t anything Merlin could have done, but sometimes there was, and those were the worst.

Arthur’s heart would break even as his hands closed over Merlin’ throat, grip much firmer than it once was now that he’d learned how to steel his nerves.  He got no pleasure from the illusion of control, nor from the sawing of his cock in Merlin’s arse.  Merlin’s cheeks were bright red from the spanking Arthur had given him earlier, and he could still feel the heat rising from them.  Even after all this time he couldn’t look Merlin in the eye when he finally came and passed out.

Arthur would pull out without climaxing.  He would clean up Merlin and rub a soothing cream over his buttocks and another balm over the rapidly forming bruises on his throat.  Merlin always let out a contented sigh as he was tucked in, curling up like a child against Arthur’s chest when he lay down beside him.

Arthur would wrap his arms around his lover automatically and cradle him until dawn, never taking away a hand to wipe the tears that coursed down his cheeks as he sent up a thousand prayers that one day Merlin wouldn’t need any of these nights at all.

 

 


End file.
